Verbal Irony With Elastic
by alicemayisbetter
Summary: A whole bunch of Glee drabbles, most likely involving Kurt being snarky or great or some such. T because I say b*tch way too many times.
1. Chapter 1

**This will be a whole bunch of little snarky!Kurt, bitchy!Kurt, confident!Kurt, and so on and so forth drabbles. So far the ones I have are reactions to _Sexy_ and Blaine's awfulness (gas pains!) therein.  
>I really wanted to write this because, despite how easy it is to write Kurt as broken-down and vulnerable and <em>full<em> of_ emotions _and _want_ and _unrequited_, in the end he really is a most fantastic bitch and I love him for it. ****Kurt here is really kind of my _esprit d'escalier_; he says all the things I wish I could have or would have said but couldn't/wouldn't because you never can react quite as well irl as you can on paper. Or, you know, whatever.  
>Review as the spirit moves you.<strong>

**Disclaimer: Glee is not mine, the characters are not mine, it would be a little odd if you sued me considering the sheer number of fics on this site and in the world, Glee and otherwise, so please don't. **

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><p>Kurt entered the practice room to find the rest of the Warblers clustered around Wes's laptop, watching something with upbeat background music Kurt was sure he recognized.<p>

"What are you guys watching?" Kurt asked innocently.

They all jumped and looked at him guiltily as Wes scrambled to pause the video.

"Nothing!" Thad said in a strangely high voice.

Kurt raised one skeptical eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe lazily. "Uh-huh. So 'nothing' comes with Beyoncé in the background now? Seriously. What were you watching?"

"Um." Blaine coughed awkwardly. "Tina may or may not have sent us a copy of your Single Ladies dance."

"Oh no she did _NOT_." In one fluid, terrifying move, Kurt vaulted the couch (it's not like Blaine hadn't done worse to it) and snatched the laptop from Wes. "You're practically at the end anyway. Fantastic. At least she had the grace not to send you the version my dad interrupted." Kurt glanced at them, his face working through several different degrees of embarrassment. "_Please_ don't make fun of me, okay? I'm actually refraining from being bitchy right now. I was a sophomore and I had yet to realize that sexy is not a good look for me—yes, that is what I was going for, I swear—and I really, _really_ do not need you guys giving me shit about it. _Capiche?_"

"Dude—Kurt, sorry—" Thad held up his hands placatingly. "Seriously, it's not a big deal. We won't make fun of you, I _swear_."

"How kind," Kurt said drily, regaining a bit of composure.

"Hey, where'd you learn to be all… _gymnastic-y_?_" _Faced with Kurt's uncomprehending stare, David clarified. "The vaulting-over-the-couch thing."

"Oh, that." Kurt grinned inwardly. "I used to be a cheerleader. Won Nationals at McKinley." He walked away, swaying his hips just a little, listening to the flabbergasted silence.

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><p><strong>Thus the mighty begin what will, for certain, be a slow descent into madness. Also, if I manage to get a few more chapters up soonish then I'll change it to 'complete', but that doesn't necessarily mean it won't be updated more after that.<strong>

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><p><strong>See that button there? The one that says 'review'? It aches for your loving caress.<strong>

**Okay, I'm done now, I swear.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, chapter two, here we go. (There's too much 30 Rock in here already, but I just can't help myself. Tina Fey is totally the foremost comedienne of our times.)**

**Some, none, or all of the things I put here may get expanded into longer fics with actual plotlines, I don't really know yet. More Kurt banter, yay!**

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><p>"We want songs that are more <em>us<em>. So everyone, come up with a song that you feel expresses who you are. We have to have soul and emotion, not just doo-wopping and Blaine-power—("I resent that!")—shut up, Blaine."

"I know exactly what song I'll sing," Kurt said, a big smile on his face. "Don't Cha by the Pussycat Dolls. You know, _don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me_…" He paused at the expressions on the Warblers' faces. "It's called verbal irony, guys. I was being sarcastic, since as Blaine has so kindly pointed out, I am not even remotely hot or sensual in any way." Kurt snickered as various Warblers glanced at each other, wondering what exactly _that _was supposed to mean. "What, you mean you didn't notice that my part in Animal mostly involved looking like I was in excruciating pain? Ach," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head at them, "you are so very _inattentive_. Fear not, I shall never try to be sexy again, lest my complete lack of hotness cause some kind of black hole of negative attraction." He smiled and clapped Blaine on the shoulder faux-comfortingly.

"Actually," Jeff said, "I think you're kinda hot, Kurt."

Kurt stared at him for a moment, tilting his head as though Jeff were a particularly diverting performing monkey. "Yeah, no you don't."

Wes cleared his throat meaningfully. "_Anyway_, if we want to win this Multi-Country Domicile of Breakfast Foods thing, which I, uh, guess we do—"

Nick and Jeff leapt to their feet. "Yes! We shall have the vouchers! They shall be ours! We must consume ALL THE WAFFLES!"

Wes soldiered on as though nothing had happened. "Yes, well, the rules say it's supposed to be emotional and heartfelt and express who we are, so let's get on that, people! Report back in a week."

Blaine started humming something that went _I saw in the mirror my reflection_

_Staring back at me _

_I thought, will I ever find what I need?_

_But I'll wear the dress if you wear the tie _only at this point Kurt interrupted, "I'd say that's more my song, wouldn't you agree, Blaine?"

"Hm? But I'm the one who—"

"Really, being lost and alone, only to eventually find what I need, (okay, fine, could be either of us), but since we're both male and I'm the only one who's actually worn a dress before, um, no, honey, that's not you." Kurt paused for a moment and winced theatrically. "_Honey_. God, I sound so camp."

"Um…" Blaine coughed and shifted. "Actually. I did."

Kurt raised an eyebrow experimentally. "Sounded camp?"

"No, wore a dress." He looked sheepish as Kurt managed to combine astounded, nonplussed, smug, and proud into a single expression. "I was five, okay? And I wanted to know what it was like."

"So I'm still the only one with a terminal case of fashion androgyny? Good to know."

Blaine shifted again.

"Well," he said, "I know it doesn't count, but most of my non-uniform wardrobe is suspenders, bowties and no socks."

Kurt made a valiant attempt not to break down laughing—or perhaps it was crying, it was difficult to tell. Regardless, he mostly managed to suffocate himself with his own tongue.

"I don't even," he choked out, "know why I'm friends with you. You tuck your shirts in too, I'll bet. Good god, my best friend is a seventy-year-old man in disguise. And here I thought you were so dapper!" The occasional (possibly mirthful) tear continued to make its watery way around Kurt's nearly-perfect nose to settle at the corner of his too-large-by-perhaps-a-fraction-of-a-centimeter mouth. "Someday I'll wake up and you'll have filled the commons with bowls of hard candy and put covers on all the chairs. Which you will then, ironically, wear out by dancing on them, creating a need for slipcovers to go over _those _slipcovers, and then it shall proceed like that forever until we all suffocate to death on quilty slipcover things and I won't even be able to say _I told you so_ because all my teeth will have been broken by your disgusting candy."

"Fine," Blaine snapped, mostly jokingly. "I guess my song will be something like, I don't know," he waved his hands around for emphasis only to discover that he didn't actually have anything to emphasize.

Kurt blinked at him a bit. "I thought that the 'I don't know' was a rhetorical device rather than a legitimate expression of your feelings."

Blaine growled.

"I was going to say something sufficiently old-timey in such a way as to indicate my scathing disdain for the whole situation, but I couldn't think of anything!"

Kurt snickered. "Your verbal acumen never fails to astound me. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go make sure I can still hit a high F."

"Why? You had one in Climb Ev'ry Mountain last week at that nursing home and you were fine."

Kurt rolled his eyes and would have said _Duh, Blaine _but monosyllables are the last defense of the weak-minded. "Yes, but your room is right next to mine, the walls are relatively thin, and I'm sure I'll need to practice right around, oh, five o'clock? You're not doing anything then, right?"

"You bitch, that's my 30 Rock time."

"I'm sure Tina Fey can live without you for one evening. And you're only in Season Two anyway, the boxed set isn't going to crumble to dust in the night."

"Huh. Well, see if I lend you Season Four the next time you want to look at Matt Damon in a pilot uniform."

"I guess I'll just have to look at you instead."

_Wait for it…_

"What?"


End file.
